Provoke
by The Elder Swear
Summary: Dean has done a far amount of stupid things, things that should really get him killed. Ticking off an angel is definitely one of those things. Destiel one-shot, rated for language.


**A/N: Hey there! So, I've been really bored lately, and probably unhealthily obsessed with Supernatural so I've started writing a whole bunch of one shots based on a series of one word prompts. At this point, I have about five or so finished and another four that are in progress and about a million plot bunnies waiting to be freed from their pen. Over the summer I hope to get over a hundred posted, but we'll see what happens. I'm still not totally confident with my ability to write the characters, but I like how this one turned out. Just a warning, most of the one shots will probably have at least some Destiel because it is very, very beautiful and I love it. **

**Warnings: Language, some spoilers for season six, and boy kissing.**

**Couples/Characters: Dean/Castiel**

**Disclaimer: Blah, blah, blah, not mine. **

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><p>Over the course of his life, Dean had to admit, he had pulled a lot of stupid stunts. Like, really, really stupid. Like some profoundly moronic crap that, if not for a ridiculous amount of luck, probably would have killed him.<p>

Taking out his anger on an Angel of the Lord was definitely pretty high on the list.

It hadn't really been his plan, but one thing tends to lead to another. Especially when one is shitfaced drunk. Honestly, angels should have visiting hours.

Another hunt finished, Dean had barely had enough energy to make it through the cheap motel room door and onto the cheaper bed. Apparently this last town had been another that Robo-Sam had visited with Most Douchey Grandfather of the year. At least Sam had mentioned the memory flashes earlier this time and, after several hours of not-screaming, Dean had convinced him to head back to Bobby's so Dean would finish this one himself. It was just a few vampires, not really that big of a deal.

Finding the hideout had taken about two hours from the point when Sam left. But, it wasn't quite morning, so Dean found a nice place to park and wait for the sun, just to be safe. About an hour later, Dean got a call from Bobby. Guess who just had a memory seizure? After kicking the crap out of a tree, Dean figured it was light enough to release some rage on a few bloodsuckers.

Okay, so maybe there had been a few more than Dean had expected.

Seven hours, twenty-six bruises, a split lip, at least one cracked rib, and a possible concussion later, Dean finally made it back to his baby and its new litter of happy yellow parking tickets. How the hell were there even cops out here?

Oh well, at least there was a decent liquor store in town. Maybe if he got drunk enough, everything would just go away. Of course Dean knew better than to drink while driving, but apparently the cop who pulled him over didn't think he did. The damn cop wrote him three more tickets and then, when he pulled away, the bastard thought he'd drive just a little too close, just to give Dean a scare or some crap thing like that. Then there's this weird noise and the cop got this weird look right before his sirens went off and he sped away. It was then that Dean saw his baby's new scratch. Only the twenty-seven tickets and a still throbbing head that kept Dean from getting charged with vehicular assault.

Dean didn't take his foot off the gas until he was back to the hotel. The room was small and smelled like a mixture of cat, feet and old lady. Dean vaguely wondered if they were connected as he drained several bottles of… something or other. After about the seventh, the labels started getting fuzzy. His pocket was fuzzy too… no, wait, that was a rectangle.

"The hell do you want?" Dean snapped to the rectangle, not bothering to check the name.

"Nice to hear from you too, princess. Thought you might like to know, Sam's not dead."

Dean grimaced and flopped back on the bed, pressing a hand to his forehead. "Right, sorry. He okay?"

"He's got one hell of a headache, but he'll live." There was a squeak through the phone from someone leaning back on old cushions. "Boy, how drunk are you?"

"Haven't passed out yet." Dean glanced at his dwindling stash of bottles, probably not quite enough to give him alcohol poisoning, but with his luck, he could never be too sure.

The phone erupted in static as Bobby sighed, most likely making one of his 'idjit' faces. "You are some kinda idjit, you know that?"

Dean rolled his eyes. "Bobby, how 'bout you save the lecture till I'm sober enough to remember it?"

"Fine. Oh, Cas was looking for you."

"What's he want now?"

"Hell if I know, he wouldn't tell me jack squat. Said he had to talk to you."

Dean winced and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Tell me you didn't give him my room number."

"Hello, Dean."

Dean sighed. "I hate you, Bobby," he said and snapped the phone shut. He eased himself up on his elbows to find Castiel standing a few feet from the edge of the bed, staring at him. "Hey, Cas, what'cha need?" he asked, slurring slightly.

Castiel titled his head to one side, his eyes briefly flickering to the empty bottles. "Dean, how much alcohol have you consumed?"

"Hell if I know."

"That is not healthy, Dean."

"Neither is busting my ass fighting vampires, but what'cha gonna do?" He sat up slowly and put a hand to his head to stop the world from spinning.

Castiel's hand alighted on his shoulder to steady him. Concern leaked into the angel's eyes. "Have you been injured?"

"Eh, probably." Dean shrugged his hand away. "Cut to the chase please?"

"Very well," Castiel said, straightening up, all emotion leaving his features. "As you know, the war in heaven rages on. Raphael refuses to negotiate and… I am growing worried."

"So the turtle won't talk to you," Dean said, opening another bottle and taking a drink, "big deal."

"Yes, it is. Raphael knows of my… fondness for humans, which is one he does not share. I believe he may begin using this against me."

"Alright… the hell d'you want me to do about it."

Castiel's brow furrowed. "I was merely hoping to gain your assistance."

"Cas, you won't even tell me what these damn battles are about, but you want me to fight 'em for you?" Dean shook his head. "That's screwed up."

"I realize the situation is far from ideal, but—"

"But nothing." Dean stood up and was mildly amazed that he remained upright. "You won't tell me a thing, so why the hell should I do anything for you?"

"Dean, please, let me—"

"No, Cas! I have had it with this stupid war or whatever the hell it is. Find some other human to do your damn dirty work! Cause, news flash, I don't give a damn!"

"Stop!" The lights flickered and the room seemed to shake. For a second, Castiel seemed very tall, his eyes flashing darkly. Dean shut his mouth and the angel returned to normal, his expression tired and almost sad. He let out a slow breath and shut his eyes before he spoke again. "I am sorry, Dean. I have clearly come at a bad time, I just… I hoped I could come to you."

Dean raised an eyebrow. "So, things pretty crappy up top then?"

Castiel nodded and moved to sit on the bed, springs creaking slightly. The angel looked more exhausted than Dean had ever seen him. "I believe I was mistaken in coming here."

"Then why'd you show up?"

"I… I don't know."

Knowing he was bound for trouble, Dean plowed ahead. "Why are you still here? Things really to the point where you miss me?"

Castiel looked at him, his eyes both reprimanding and remorseful. "Dean."

"No really, must be some major crap going down if I'm the best you've got." Dean spread his arms wide and gave a manic grin. "Maybe I'm wrong, maybe things really are that shitty. Either way, sucks to be you."

"I am well aware of that fact, Dean."

The hunter laughed and threw back the bottle, emptying it and letting it clink to the ground. "Y'know, now I'm curious. What's so bad up there that you have to come running to me, I mean, this can't be fun for you…" Dean paused and gave an odd sort of shrug. "Or, maybe it is. Cas, this how you get your rocks off?"

Castiel stared at him. "What do you mean?"

"Is that what this is about? You like ditching out to complain to me. Must be a hell of a lot more fun than getting out on the front lines with your little feathery buddies."

Castiel stood abruptly. "I am no coward."

Dean held up his hands. "Did I say that? Nah, man, I know you're no coward. Just, maybe it's nice to get to sit back and let other people die for once. I mean, if things are as bad as you keep saying, how many guys d'you think you've lost since you started talking to me? Ten? Twenty?"

"I would never abandon my brothers." Anger was obvious on the angel's face, but Dean was already on a roll.

"Really? Cause you're good at leaving everything else. Honestly, what d'you care if a couple of 'em get toasted? For the greater good, right?"

"Dean, you don't know what you're saying."

"Pretty sure I do, Cas. I get it, dad finally gives you the reigns, and how do you handle it—"

"Dean."

"—you run things right into the ground. I bet God's proud now, Cas." Dean brought his hands together in mocking applause. "Congratulations, I bet you—"

Dean's next comment was cut off by a punch to the face. He staggered back only to find himself violently shoved against the wall with a face full of livid angel. Castiel's knuckles were white as his hands fisted in Dean's shirt and he slammed the hunter more firmly against the wall. "How dare you? You know nothing of the war, of my actions! If I had not stepped in when I did, Raphael would have decimated everything. I may not know how to proceed, but at least I am doing something other than drinking my sorrows away in a hotel room, waiting for things to get better!"

Though he'd had to blink away stars from the punch, Dean suddenly felt much more sober, the warm buzz leaving him with only mild nausea, but very little of the disgust was towards the alcohol. He swallowed hard, unable to look away from Castiel's fierce blue eyes. "Cas, I… I… I'm sorry. I wasn't… I didn't mean…." He gulped again, and licked his lips nervously and found a strong coppery taste. The punch had reopened the split and he could feel blood trickling towards his chin. He would have wiped it away, but his arms had turned to lead, hanging uselessly at his sides.

Castiel's eyes flicked over his face, some of his anger seemed to have ebbed away. The angel brought up a hand and wiped the blood from Dean's lower lip with his thumb, his fingers sliding comfortably into place on Dean's throat. The touch sent a shiver down Dean's spine that he really didn't want to think about. Somehow the air of the room had shifted dramatically, but none of the intensity had faded.

Castiel sighed and Dean could feel the air on his face. "I must apologize as well. This was obviously a bad time to arrive. I should have been aware that you were emotionally compromised."

Dean wanted to fire back something witty, but his brain had stopped working. He really wanted to blame the alcohol that was still in his system, but from the way his breathing hitched as Castiel brushed away another drop of blood, he was fairly sure that wasn't the case. If the angel noticed, he didn't say anything, but his eyes had grown much softer.

"I could heal your injuries for you," Castiel said, moving his other hand from Dean's collar to rest over his ribs. Dean winced slightly and shut his eyes, unable to continue staring into the angel's damn unblinking blues.

"No, I'm okay." He managed a soft laugh. "I probably deserve it."

"I don't believe that."

Dean opened his eyes halfway to find the angel giving him a very strange look. "Oh yeah, what d'you think I deserve then?"

Castiel blinked twice and then he was much closer than he had ever been before. Dean let his eyes flutter shut. Really, the angel had no business having lips that soft, or tasting like mint chocolate. It wasn't particularly neat or heated, and honestly, Dean was okay with that, he had no idea what the hell he would do if Cas went pizza man on him. At some point, one of Dean's hands found Castiel's waist, while the other tangled in his surprisingly soft hair.

When Castiel pulled away, he kept his eyes closed and pressed their foreheads together. He sighed. "Dean, I believe you are far too well versed in eliciting emotional responses from me."

Dean grinned. "Yeah, but, for the record, I like this one way better."

So, it had still been a stupid thing to do, but Dean was totally okay with dumb luck.

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><p><strong>AN: I hope you liked it. Reviews are love and if you like my writing style, feel free to leave a prompt! **


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